Mistress Rose
by Isabeau of Greenlea
Summary: A pregnant mage with secrets takes refuge in the village of Honnleath.
1. Chapter 1

NaNoWriMo gave me the impetus to do this one-shot. A while back I read a story (whose title and author I cannot remember or I would credit him/her) that put forward the idea that Honnleath might be a sort of refuge for mages. That story gave me this idea.

* * *

"Is this Honnleath?" the woman driving the wagon asked. Matthias and Amalia looked at each other for a moment. She'd come upon them by the main road into town as they were surveying yet again the Blighted field outside the town boundaries for any signs of the Taint spreading or receding. Despite the fact that it had been over a decade since the land was Blighted, there were few signs of recovery. In fact, they'd just been debating whether the new green weeds along the verge were actually moving into the Tainted areas when she drove up.

"It is," Matthias said firmly. "Who are you, Mistress, and what is your business here?"

"My name is Rose Thornwell," she answered in a pleasant contralto voice. The spring sun was merciless in picking out the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, but she was lovely nonetheless, with piercing blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair that spilled in waved over her shoulders. She was also about four months pregnant, Amalia thought, judging from the size of the bulge beneath her sensible traveling gown. "I am interested in finding a small farm or house in this area to purchase."

"We're a bit out of the way," Matthias said repressively.

"I _like _out of the way," Mistress Thornwell responded with good humor. The silver-haired elf in plain clothing sitting on the seat beside her chuckled at that. There was a stirring in the wagon bed and a mabari suddenly rose, setting its huge forepaws on either side of the woman on the seat from behind. and craning its head around to be patted. "This is my husband Leto," she said, indicating the elf, who inclined his head, "and this is Briar," with a pat on the wardog's head.

Being Fereldans, the presence of the mabari was reassuring. Nonetheless, Matthias held to the hard line necessary for the village's survival.

"There are other places in the area that might be better suited to you, Mistress Thornwell. I know for a fact that there are two good farms for sale outside Serenfield. Nice land, no Blight at all."

Rose Thornwell merely smiled and turned her hand up. Fire danced upon it for a moment. "'Better suited'? I doubt that. Please don't make me give a bigger demonstration-that's not good for a pregnant woman. And if it makes you feel any better, the Hero of Fereldan recommended you and told me how to get here. Cyrill Tabris said to ask if Amalia still liked to play with cats."

Amalia saw her father visibly relax. "Well, that's a different matter than. But the decision to let you stay is not mine alone, Mistress Thornwell. We have a village Council."

"Could I meet with them?"

"Of course. In the meantime, I can guest you at my house. We've stabling for your beasts as well. You must be tired from traveling."

"You have no idea," Mistress Thornwell sighed and for just an instant, her face showed a profound weariness, almost despair it seemed. Then she brightened again.

"I am much obliged, Matthias. It's a pleasure to meet you and Amalia."

Matthias merely nodded. "Come with me. It's close to dinner time. We can give you supper and lodging for the night at the very least. I'll call the Council after dinner."

* * *

Amalia had just turned twenty-one the month before, so she was now officially a member of the Village Council. But she didn't feel it was her place yet to join in with the questions, so at first she just sat and listened. They were all crowded into what had been used to be Matthias' father's library in the old windmill. Rose Thornwell endured the interrogation with good humor-it was her husband who seemed to get annoyed with the probing questions.

"Did you escape a Circle, Mistress?" was the first thing her father asked.

"No. I've never been inside one. My father was an apostate and he raised and trained me outside of the Circle."

"That's quite the feat. Is he still alive?"

"Father was quite the man. But no, he died of an illness when I was seventeen. My only surviving family is my brother, who is a Grey Warden in the Free Marches." There was a murmur at that. Rose Thornwell smiled wryly. "Needless to say, I don't see much of him."

"Where are you from?" Coris Blaylock, the village smith, inquired.

"Most recently, we spent a little time in Llomerryn. Before that, I was in Kirkwall for over a decade. But I came to Kirkwall from Lothering. I'm Fereldan by birth."

"However did you avoid the Templars in Kirkwall for so long?" Moira Tirsden, the midwife asked. "Rumor has it that they're worse there than anywhere else."

"There was a mage underground there. And Fereldans didn't turn fellow Fereldans into the Templars, even if they were mages."

"She was lucky. _Damned_ lucky," the elf said, speaking for the first time. His voice was deep and lovely. "Lucky enough for ten."

"Leto!" Rose said chidingly, but she was smiling as she did so. Matthias turned his attention to the elf.

"Where are you from, ser?"

"I met Rose in Kirkwall. Originally, I'm from Tevinter."

"Are _you _a mage?" The elf looked slightly startled at the question.

"No. Though my sister is. So there is magic in my bloodline."

Farrin Marsh, one of the local farmers, seemed to feel that something wasn't right. He was a mage, as was Moira.

"You look awfully well-off for Kirkwall refugees. From what little we've heard, most of them who got back didn't have much more than a chamber pot, and that was the lucky ones."

For the first time, Rose seemed discomfited. She fidgeted with the folds of her skirt for a moment. "All right, you've got me," she said at last. "There was a house in Hightown called The Blooming Rose. I worked there for a number of years. Kept my head down, my magic hidden and did what I was told. Had a _big_ repeat clientele. I didn't drug and I didn't drink and I saved back my share of the money and my tips."

"You were a whore," Farrin said flatly.

"Yes!" Rose shot back. "And it was the pretty smart thing to do, as it turned out! Fereldans couldn't make much of a living anywhere else. There was a mine the Champion had a share in and she made the other owner pay a living wage, but still, times were hard. The Rose, it weathered all that went on better than any other business in Kirkwall. It was always open. The Qunari didn't touch it when they attacked the city and it stayed open even after the Chantry blew up." She looked around the room defiantly. "I was a looker, and I'd had enough offers from those who thought they were doing me a favor and a few threats from those who wanted to take it for free. Why shouldn't I get paid for the privilege? My mother died from the chokedamp, and my brother certainly wasn't around!"

There was no answer and she softened a little. "Besides, I met Leto there. He was a bouncer." She smiled at her husband, who gave her an oddly shy smile back.

"Is the baby his?" Mistress Tirsden inquired.

"It is. I was done with the trade after we left Kirkwall. We got married quite properly in Llomerryn."

That seemed to be a point in her favor, judging from the approving murmurs around the room.

"Did you ever meet the Champion?" Eiric Rousell asked eagerly. He was another of the farmers, a non-mage of middle years.

Rose smiled at his enthusiasm. "I saw her once, in passing, when she came in looking for one of the other girls during an investigation. Idunna turned out to be a blood mage, who tried her tricks on the Champion. The Champion killed her without so much as turning a hair. I didn't cry any tears over it, I can tell you-Idunna was evil to us other girls, quite the bully."

"What was she like?" Amalia found herself asking. "The Champion, not Idunna." Mistress Thornwell turned her attention to her and smiled.

"Middle height, nothing particularly extraordinary, though she moved with great energy. Always carried this monstrous big staff, right out in public. Overcompensation, if you ask me."

Her husband snorted what sounded like a suppressed laugh through that long, patrician nose of his. "_Definitely_ overcompensation," he agreed.

"What sort of magic do you have, Mistress?" Matthias asked, determined to get the questioning back on course and away from gossip about the legendary Champion. "And how much training in it?"

"Obviously, I can't do anything much now," Rose said, "But when I'm not pregnant, I've got a little bit of Primal, a little bit of Elemental, a little bit of Force and a basic Healing spell. I'd be up for learning more Healing if you've got someone who teaches that and of course I'm willing to teach anyone who wants to learn my sorts of magic."

Amalia's father frowned. Aside from Amalia and the midwife, who was a strong healer, most of Honnleath's mages were very minimal talents, the sort that Templars tended to Tranquil because although they were technically mages, they had no really useful, trainable gift. "Primal? Elemental? Force? That's battlemage stuff. I should know, my father was one."

"As was my father," came Rose's mild response. "He was a mercenary battlemage for years. You teach what you know, and sometimes facility with certain schools of magic is carried through the blood. I've got Father's gifts and he gave a good grounding, though I never used it. But I'm certainly not up to Father's level. I'm just saying I could give someone basic training in it, if that is where their talents lie."

"And with all that training, you decided to earn a living on your back instead?" Farrin's sarcastic question came.

Rose gave him a wide-eyed look. "_Hello_? Do you know what sorts of people I'd have been working for, if I'd gone that route? Carta, Coterie, smugglers, mercenaries! The life expectancy for a mercenary battlemage isn't a long one. Father made sure I knew that. He was lucky-he died of sickness, in his bed. He trained me for my own safety-you can't hide your magic if you don't have complete control of it, as I'm sure some of you know. But he never wanted me to take up the trade."

That seemed a plausible explanation to Amalia, and her father as well. "You should know," he told the Thornwells, "that we all cooperate here. You've got a nice, strong team and we take turn and turn about doing the farm work. We'd be expecting you to let us use them. Do you have a problem with that?"

Mistress Thornwell shrugged. "I rather expected something of the sort, from what Warden Tabris said. Leto and I are hard workers too. Admittedly, I'm not up for anything heavy now, but I grew up on a farm, and we're both willing to do what we can."

More murmurs of approval. Matthias got up.

"Does anyone else have any further questions?" There was a long moment of silence. "No? Then you take Master and Mistress Thornwell back to the house, Amalia and make them comfortable. We'll wait for you to come back before we debate the matter."

"I brought cakes," the midwife said. "And I'll run and fetch some hot tea."

* * *

Once Amalia had returned, the tea and cakes and argument began. As might have been expected, Farrin was opposed. He was one of those mages who possessed a bit of a puritanical Chantry streak.

"You're not honestly asking us to take a _whore_ in, are you, Matthias?" he demanded.

"Why not?" Matthias shot back. "Berk was a pick-pocket, and Travis worked for those smugglers up in Amaranthine. You didn't object to them."

"That's not the same!"

"Isn't it?"

"No, it's not! Smuggling and thieving are sins, but they're not carnal. You've seen her, with that pretty hair and those eyes. Mark my words, she'll be twitching those hips at every man in the village and we'll see marriages breaking up over it."

"I don't think that's likely, Farrin. She's married now, with a child on the way."

"That never stops a whore."

"It sounds as if I ought to be more worried about _your _intentions towards Mistress Thornwell than hers towards the village. You certainly seem fixated on her appearance."

Farrin Marsh's face turned purple. "Well, I never!," he practically gobbled. "You've got some nerve, Matthias! I might accuse you of being tempted as well, you being a widower and such. It makes as much sense!"

"Women don't have the choices men do in times of war and difficulty, Farrin," Moira Tirsden put in, "Not being big and strong like you fellows. I know we've got the odd battle-maid in Ferelden, but those are few and far between. There's been plenty of girls of good nature who've had to sell themselves for survival's sake, or to help their families. And quite frankly, unless you've suddenly developed lady-bits between your legs," Farmer Marsh sputtered at this, "I don't see that it's your place to be calling Mistress Thornwell down for her choices. You don't know what she faced in Kirkwall."

"Besides," Amalia said eagerly, "you heard her. She's married now, with a baby on the way. And I think she and her husband really love each other. You can tell from the way they look at one another."

"Pah!" Farrin Marsh snorted, but he subsided.

"They have a nice team," Blaylock said. "I looked them over. Young and strong. The Thornwells would be an asset to the community just for that. And the husband-I'll warrant he's stronger than he looks. Elves often are."

"I take it that none of you have objections to Leto Thornwell based upon the fact that he's an elf?" Matthias asked almost sternly. Heads shook all around. Mages tended to ignore racial differences in the face of the mutual curse of magic and there were a lot of mages in Honnleath.

"Besides, didn't Mistress Thornwell say she was raised up on a farm?" Patience Murray asked. "At least she's not city folk. She'll be bound to be useful too, once the baby has come."

"Ah, but she said she was from Lothering," her husband Ricard Murray, who was the recorder for the Council, noted. "There's no real way to check on her story. Lothering's obliterated."

"She said the Hero of Ferelden vouched for her and told her how to get here," Matthias said. "That's a point in her favor."

"Can we prove that?" Master Murray asked.

"I'm satisfied. She gave me a phrase the Warden had given her, something that only he and I would have known about."

"Well, if the Hero says it's all right," Blaylock declared, "it's more than good enough for me."

"Not to mention the fact that Amalia's Primal and Elemental need training and none of us are any good at that beyond basic meditations," said Mistress Tirsden.

"Matthias, tell me you don't want a _whore _training your little girl! No telling what she'll pick up beyond the magic!" Marsh rumbled.

"I'm not worried about that. My butterfly has a good head on her shoulders." Matthias sent a proud smile his daughter's way. Amalia smiled back and ducked her head. "But it is true that she needs to acquire a bit more control. If there aren't any more questions, I suggest we put this to a vote. Show of hands-do we let Rose and Leto Thornwell live amongst us? Those in favor, raise your hands."

* * *

Amalia got to deliver the verdict. She hastened home before her father, to find Rose and Leto seated in front of the fire. The elf was reading a book, his finger following the words, while Rose was sewing on a tiny gown for her child. It did not seem to be going well, from the way her brow was furrowed and she looked up at Amalia with obvious relief at being interrupted. That relief became a smile that answered Amalia's as the young woman said, "Welcome to Honnleath!"


	2. Chapter 2

The Goodman farm had been deserted since the Blight. The land had been worked by the village, and in fact they were getting ready to put it to the plow again. The house, which was out of town by about half a mile, had been empty for ten years, but attempts had been made to keep the roof and windows sound, and there was some furniture within. The Thornwells went out with Matthias and Amalia the next day to take a look. After pacing the land and going over the house carefully, Rose declared the farm acceptable, a price was set, money exchanged hands and the Thornwells officially became citizens of Honnleath, with a voice on the Council.

* * *

Amalia almost felt sorry for Leto in the days that followed. The Thornwells had arrived at what was one of the busiest times of the year, spring planting. Leto was immediately drafted to help, which he did willingly, though it was obvious he'd never been exposed to anything agricultural in his life. At the same time, he and Rose had a good-sized house to put in order and he was adamant that his wife, whom Mistress Tirsden said was rather old to be having a first baby, not do any heavy lifting or stretching. The midwife agreed with him, and it was decided that the Thornwells would hire Amalia to help with the cleaning and refurbishing.

This was more than agreeable to Amalia. The money aside, never having been beyond the bounds of Honnleath, she was hungry for news of the outside world. So it was beyond pleasant to coax stories of Kirkwall out of Mistress Thornwell as the two of them scrubbed and dusted and painted.

Rose Thornwell spoke of the luxuries and beauties of High Town and the squalid vibrancy of Lowtown with the authority of one who'd lived in both places. She touched only briefly upon Darktown's filth and despair, which led Amalia to believe that her worst memories were couched there. She remembered what Rose had said about her mother dying.

"We're so far away from everything," Amalia said one day, as they were washing windows in the second bedroom. "Nothing ever happens in Honnleath. We've really not heard much about what happened in Kirkwall, but there are so many contradictions in even the stories we've heard. Some people blame the mages, others blame the templars. You were there. What do you think about what happened?"

Rose set her rag upon the sill, wiping her hands upon her apron. "That Elthina was to blame," she said without hesitation.

"Elthina? Wasn't she the Grand Cleric? The one that was killed? How could she be to blame? The talk is that they're going to beatify her, as a martyr to the faith."

"That figures. And it's appropriate, in a way. Certainly, she was too damned saintly to _do her_ _job_."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Knight-Commander Meredith worked for _her_! At any point in time after the Qunari attack, Elthina could have reined Meredith in. But no, she let Meredith keep the nobles from electing a successor to Dumar for years, in defiance of Chantry law. She let her keep oppressing the mages, allowing her templars to abuse and Tranquil Harrowed mages, also in defiance of Chantry law. She spent a lot of time chatting the First Enchanter and Meredith up, but she didn't actively _do _anything to fix matters, and she could have done so, had she just been more forceful and assertive. Elthina was also directly responsible for the Qunari attack on Kirkwall."

"_What?"_

There was a grim look on Rose Thornwell's face, that changed it utterly, into something almost pitiless.

"If you're a commander, then you're responsible for keeping your people under control, not to mention knowing what they're doing in your name. There was a sister named Petrice, who was doing her damnedest to stir up unrest in the populace against the Qunari. Elthina was oblivious what was going on. Petrice was using her seal. Viscount Dumar's son, Seamus, was a Qunari sympathizer. Eventually, he actually left to join them, become _viddathari_, as they call it, a convert to the Qun. Which meant that he was under the Arishok's protection. Petrice, who was a Mother by then, lured him to the Chantry with a fake letter from his father and had him murdered by her zealots."

"A _Mother_ did that? In the _Chantry_?" Amalia was astonished. There was no Chantry in Honnleath for obvious reasons; nonetheless, that went outside everything she'd ever heard about how clergy were supposed to behave.

"She did indeed. Which was the final straw for the Qunari. The Arishok considered it a murder of one of his own people, for that's how they regard _viddathari_, whatever their race. I can't say I care much for the Qun, but I appreciate the Qunari for that at least. There were a _lot _of elves defecting and joining the Qunari in Kirkwall, because they got equality and respect from them." Rose's face softened to its customary, amiable expression. She took up her rag again, and started cleaning once more.

"Did Master Thornwell convert?" Amalia asked daringly.

Mistress Thornwell smiled, as she tended to do whenever her husband was mentioned. "Leto? No. But he speaks Qunari. Learned it in Tevinter. And he knows quite a bit about the Qun."

"In any event," she continued, "it was that murder that made the Arishok decide that it was his role to bring order to Kirkwall. Its festering chaos finally offended him too greatly to be ignored. Which was why he attacked."

"How do you know all of this?"

The former whore chuckled knowingly. "Pillow talk, Amalia. Pillow talk. Everyone of any importance came into the Rose eventually. It was the _best_ place to hear the news."

Amalia blushed, and returned to her work.

* * *

When the kitchen garden was dug and planted at the back of the house and the house itself clean and re-furbished, Amalia's lessons in Primal and Elemental began. And her opinion of Mistress Rose, which initially had been one of awe-struck admiration for her worldliness and beauty, changed.

Rose Thornwell was a slave driver, a taskmaster, a tyrant of epic proportions. Unable to currently cast magic herself, she was nonetheless capable of giving clear instructions, and she expected them to be followed to the letter. Amalia found herself casting spells over and over, as quickly as her mana would recharge, to the point that she felt, for the first time, the bone-deep ache all over her body that indicated she'd overtaxed her magical ability.

"Again."

"Mistress Thornwell…"

"Again, Amalia. And keep shooting as fast as you can, until I tell you to stop."

Amalia lifted the staff that Rose had gifted her, one that was so much better than her makeshift one, and fired at the innocuous pile of rocks that had set up in the small field behind the house. That field had been left to lie fallow this year, and had been recently mowed. Amalia was beginning to hate the place.

"Faster, Amalia." Mistress Thornwell was sitting at her ease in a chair beneath a tree. "I know exactly how long it takes for mana to recharge. You should be able to do staff blasts non-stop."

"But it _hurts_!"

"Of course it hurts. Magic is like a muscle-you have to strain it to the utmost to get it to grow."

And then there were the sticks. Oh, how Amalia _loathed_ the sticks! They had bits of shingle with numbers painted on them attached, and were scattered all over the field. Rose would call the numbers and Amalia was expected to target the ones she called, in the order she called, as fast as she could, some of them directly behind her or off to the side. Leto and Rose were continuously making more sticks, since Amalia went through so many of them.

"This is battlemage stuff," she'd declared accusingly to Rose, who'd merely shrugged.

"Of course it is. It's how my father taught me and he was a battlemage. But it's good for control, regardless, and all mages need control. And a mage who has already set a hayrick and Mistress Tirsden's curtains on fire by accident," -Amalia's father had been more than unfair about telling tales of Amalia's lapses, to her way of thinking- "needs it more than most."

For two hours a day, Amalia did her exercises under Mistress Rose's iron direction. The first week, she hated it. The second, she merely endured. By the third, she could feel the difference beginning to manifest itself, the increase in her strength and control, and by the end of the month, she was Rose Thornwell's obedient disciple.

"Amalia," Rose said at the next Council meeting, which was in the old windmill as usual, "One through Nine, in no particular order." She was indicating the five lamp chandelier in the library as well as the four sconces scattered around the room. When Amalia stood in one place and lit them all with tiny, neat, controlled gouts of flame so quickly it almost seemed they flared into life all at once, her father beamed with pride and the other Council members actually applauded.

* * *

Leto Thornwell was a bit of an enigma. Quiet where his wife was outgoing, he lacked the usual servile air a lot of elves had. His silence was almost intimidating-until you caught him making one of his pithy observations under his breath in that beautiful, low voice of his. Then you realized that he actually had a sense of humor.

And he was certainly devoted to his wife, and she to him. When they were in a room together, scarce a minute went by when their eyes did not seek each other out, exchanging wordless communication in a way that spoke of years together.

Leto had very strange tattoos, white ones on his chin and neck and hands that descended and ascended into his shirt. Amalia was curious. He seemed very shy about them, and never took his shirt off, even when working in the fields on the hottest day. She couldn't bring herself to ask him about them, but she did ask Rose one day, when they'd done with their lessons and were drinking tea cooled by Amalia's improving ice spell under Rose's favorite tree.

"Leto was a slave in Tevinter, a bodyguard," Rose answered, her eyes hooded. "Don't mention them to him, please, Amalia. They were done as decoration-it was a fashion at the time-to make him look more frightening. They remind him of a time when he was considered an object rather than a person, so of course he prefers to keep them hidden."

Amalia was astonished. "Leto was a _slave_? However did he escape?"

"That's another sensitive subject, which I'd also prefer you not bring up to him. By going through a lot of trials and pain. He doesn't like to talk about it even with me." Her face bloomed bright with what Amalia had come to know as the Leto-smile. "He's an extraordinary man."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Rose's mouth twisted wryly. "Of course you did. You were curious. And that's all right. But I do hope you won't mention what I've told you to anyone else. When you tell people, they only see the slave after that, and that's not fair to Leto. He's trying to make a new life here, after all."

"I shan't tell anyone."

"Thank you, Amalia."

* * *

Amalia's lessons usually took place an hour after lunch. But one day, Mistress Shadwell had baked a pie with the earliest of the new apples for Rose and asked her to take it over with her. So she started over a bit early.

Approaching the house, she heard voices in back, near the kitchen garden, so she started around and peered through the lattice fence that kept the deer out.

Rose and Leto were there by the well. Leto had obviously come in from harvesting the fields for lunch. His shirt was off, and Rose was sponging him off with well water from a bucket.

The tattoos did, in fact, twine all over his upper body and arms in delicate, twining tendrils, startling contrast to skin that, despite his care in keeping it covered, was a dark, golden brown. Leto, Amalia noted with stunned approval, was absolutely beautiful, with wiry, ripped muscle flowing under the skin.

And Rose, her hair done back in a kerchief and cheeks reddened by heat and the late summer sun, seemed to appreciate him greatly. Her hand trailed the sopping rag very deliberately over shoulders and chest and face. Leto's head was tipped back, his eyes half closed and an unguarded smile the like of which Amalia had not yet seen was on his face. It transformed him.

"You undo me," he said in that lovely, dark voice of his. Amalia felt heat beginning to grow between her legs.

"Do I?" said Rose a bit breathlessly. "How unfortunate! When what I was intending was to _do_ you!" Her head dipped and the tip of her sunburned nose traced the line of one of the neck tattoos. Leto groaned, and the heat within Amalia intensified.

The elf's hands slid about Rose's expanding waist. Was she _licking_ the markings now? Somewhat shocked and confounded, Amalia took the pie and fled.

* * *

"You're late," Rose chided, when Amalia could finally bring herself to come back over. She handed the pie to her teacher.

"Actually, I came over earlier, to bring the pie. With compliments, from Mistress Shadwell. But you were…occupied."

"Oh. I see." Rose was amused, but worldly creature that she was, not embarrassed in the least. "I'm sorry about that, Amalia." She took the pie back into the kitchen, and Amalia followed her. "Would you care for a slice? Mistress Shadwell's pies are always so good."

"She said it was a thank-you for that tonic you made her."

"How kind of her. I shall have to do up another bottle."

"Yes, I'd like a piece." So Rose took down plates and forks and a knife to cut the pie.

"There's a jug of fresh milk in the well, if you'd care to fetch it." Amalia went out the back door to do so, blushing a bit as the sight of the well triggered the memory. Drawing the jug up, she took it back in side. Rose had already cut the pie and had set mugs out.

"You pour, and frost both the mugs a little. Just enough to cool things down." Amalia managed to do so, Rose poured the milk, and they sat down to their mid-afternoon treat.

"I hadn't thought about it before, but there's really no one here for you in Honnleath, is there?" Rose asked. "No one close to your age, really, except for Berk, and I've not noticed that you fancy him particularly. Everyone else is too old or too young."

"No, there isn't anybody. It worries Father a bit."

"You're what, twenty-one?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever think about a home and family?"

"Oh, yes. But I don't see how it will happen, unless I go somewhere else to find a husband. And that's so risky."

"I hope you do find someone then, since you wish it. My sister…she lived as chaste as a Chantry sister. She always felt her magic was a curse, and did not want to pass it on to another generation."

"What happened to her?"

"Bethany died as we were fleeing Lothering. We left it too late, and were almost overwhelmed by the darkspawn. An ogre crushed her."

"I'm very sorry."

"As am I. I miss her every day. She was my best friend, as well as my sister." Rose stared blankly down at her plate for a moment.

"You don't seem to mind passing your gift on."

Amalia's teacher snorted. "Such as it is. No, I don't. The Maker made mages just as he made the rest of the world. We're _not _a curse and _not_ a mistake. The world just needs to grow up and learn to deal with us. And I don't mean by imprisoning us in Circles." She levered herself to her feet with some difficulty because of her growing belly. "Excuse me for a moment." Amalia could hear her moving in the front of the house. From the sound of things, she crossed into the bedroom. There was silence for a few moments, then Rose came back. She was carrying a beautifully carved staff, engraved with magical sigils.

"Here. This was Bethany's staff. You're strong enough to carry it now."

"Rose, I can't take this! This is something of your _sister's_! You should keep it for your child!"

"I have other staffs I can give my baby-provided it even turns out to be a mage. I think Bethany would really like you to have this. You remind me of her a lot."

Knowing further protest would be rude, Amalia took the staff. The sense of _rightness _that thrummed through her when she laid hands upon it was startling. Rose seemed to sense this, and smiled a bit sadly.

"It's a good fit. I thought it might be. Here, we'll finish the pie and then do some fine-control exercises to tune you into it." Amalia groaned-she hated fine control exercises! Rose smiled her Evil Schoolmistress smile, and they were back to business as usual.


	3. Chapter 3

As late summer became early fall, Rose's belly increased with the rest of Honnleath's harvest, though her overseeing of Amalia's education did not slacken in the least. Then, on the fifteenth day of Harvestmere, Amalia came to the house and could not find Rose in the garden, parlor or kitchen. A groan sounded from the bedroom.

"Amalia! In here!" Amalia opened the door and peered in. Rose was in her nightgown, hanging onto the bed-post her face flushed.

"Thank the Maker you've come! The baby is coming! My water broke this morning, shortly after Leto left. Briar is with him, or I'd have sent her after him. Please go get Mistress Tirsden and my husband, will you?"

Amalia moved to her side and grabbed her arm. "Shouldn't you lie down?"

"Not yet," Rose gasped. "It helps to walk as long as you can. I saw enough babies…born in the house to know that." She gritted her teeth against a contraction. "Go on now, Amalia!"

"I'll be back quick as I can!" Amalia bolted back up the path towards Honnleath and Moira Tirsden's house.

* * *

The midwife was unimpressed with Amalia's panic. She got what few details Amalia could tell her and began packing her bag with what Matthias' daughter thought was glacial slowness.

"You need to _hurry_!" Amalia panted.

"No, I don't. First baby, older woman. We'll be doing this a while. You run and get Leto-I'll be over there before you're back with him."

* * *

As luck would have it, Rose's husband would be on the very far side of Farrin Marsh's farthest field, a mile away. Amalia was so out of breath by the time that she got there that she could do little but pant "Rose! Baby! Now!" But that was enough to send the elf pelting across the field at an incredible pace for someone who had been digging potatoes all day. Amalia followed more slowly, interspersing brief jogs with periods of walking to try and catch her breath.

By the time she got to Rose's house, not only was Moira Tirsden there, but Goody Aoife, Mistress Shadwell and Mistress Murray. They were setting up something of a command center in the kitchen, setting water to boil and talking in scandalized tones.

"Oi never saw the like of it," Goody Aoife said in her reedy voice, "in all the years Oi been alive! A _man _in the birthing chamber!"

"And she _wanted _him in there!" came Deanna Shadwell's shocked response. "I do like Rose, but it almost seems…indecent."

"Maybe it's something to do with her…former profession," said Mistress Murray. "Rose has certainly cleaned her life up, but I suppose that indecency doesn't bother her the way it would us."

"Leto's from Tevinter. For all we know, that's how they do things there," Amalia said, seating herself on one of the kitchen chairs. Mistress Shadwell smiled kindly.

"Amalia dear, are you sure you want to be here?" There was an audible groan from the other room. "I'm not sure this is the place for a young lady to be."

"Whyever not?" snorted old Aoife. "Good for her to see the consequences of taking a man between her legs if you ask me! Keep her honest!"

"Aoife! _Really_!" Patience Murray exclaimed. Amalia just smiled.

"I don't mind. I want to stay. Rose is my friend."

"From what Moira said, we may be here a while," Deanna Shadwell said. "Maybe all night."

"I still want to."

"Very well then." She pulled a pack of cards out of her purse. "Anyone up for a game of Wicked Grace? We can play for coppers."

* * *

Rose labored through what was left of the afternoon and into the night. The women sent endless amounts of boiled water and clean linen into the bedroom. The next morning, just after dawn, her little girl was born. Amalia had not been allowed into the birthing chamber, but she could hear some of what was going on. Rose had been remarkably quiet for a laboring woman, according to the audience of helpers. Not a single scream had passed her lips. And Amalia learned far more that night than she wanted to about pregnancy, labor and childbirth, as the women of Honnleath regaled her with tales of their own experiences and the experiences of other women they had known. When it was over, she began to think that Rose's sister might have had the right idea. Living like a Chantry sister didn't sound so bad after all…

A couple of hours after the baby was born, Amalia was allowed in to see Rose. The former whore looked exhausted, her pretty face puffy and beautiful hair lank. Nonetheless, she managed to convey a sense of radiant happiness as she stared down at the infant, determinedly suckling its thumb. The child looked to have its mother's strawberry hair, though the color of the eyes could not be determined. Leto was sitting beside the bed, looking both poleaxed and proud.

"A fine baby girl, healthy and strong," Moira Tirsden said with approval. Amalia privately thought that the child was a wizened little red horror, though she was aware that babies improved with age. The infant's ears did point the slightest bit, as did her head.

"She's very pretty," she offered politely.

Rose's eyes crinkled as she smiled. "No, she's not. But she will be soon. She's going to be lovely."

"What are you going to name her?" Amalia asked, and was unsurprised when Leto's deep voice said, "Bethany."

* * *

Rose recovered from the birth remarkably well. "You could do this again a couple more times, in all likelihood, before your womb shuts down," Mistress Tirsden said during one of her post-partum visits. Rose glanced over at Leto, whose green eyes were white all around, and laughed.

"Don't scare the poor man, Moira! And I'm thinking I'm not in any hurry myself, if you must know."

Amalia came over every day to "do" for her and Rose insisted upon continuing her lessons, though they were by necessity abbreviated. It was getting too cold to take little Bethany out, so Rose would leave her with Leto, who was done with farm-work for the season, and they would do as much as they could while the baby was asleep.

And for the first time, Amalia got to see Rose do magic. She was, as she had represented herself, not a strong power, though Amalia could not fault her for precision and control. She used her ashwood staff precisely as a surgeon's scalpel. They did some games where they would follow each other with spells, Winter's Grasp and Stonefist particularly, and Rose even showed Amelia a little Force magic, how to repel or attract small objects together. She had some wooden balls she used for that. Amalia couldn't do it at all, but she enjoyed watching Rose do her tricks.

"It might come to you one day, and it's more likely to if you know what's possible," Rose said, unperturbed at Amalia's failure. "So much of magic is about belief. Don't feel badly-most people don't pick up Force magic until they're much further along." She waggled her fingers. "It's more…nebulous, harder to grasp. But it's the same thing that makes you fall off a cliff and it can kill people just as dead as fire." Seeing Amalia's surprised look, Rose grinned.

"Not that I'd know from experience. I kept my head low, remember? Just a figure of speech."

* * *

Bethany was a month old and the first flakes of snow were falling when the mercenaries came to Honnleath. Because of the weather, no one was out in the fields to give warning, and the first thing anyone knew of it in the town was the sound of heavy, booted feet and racous shouting.

Matthias peered out through the front curtain and paled. Amalia had been about to go to the Thornwell's and had been headed to the door. He stopped her.

"Out the back, and quickly, Amalia! Go to Rose and Leto and stay with them! I don't know what these men want, but it can't be good and you and Rose are good-looking women. You should all probably go to the mill and stay there until this sorts out. If you see any of the children, take them with you, but don't stop to look for them! Go!"

"But Father…"

"We won't fight them. There are too many. They probably just want our food. We'll give it to them and they'll go. But you stay away until someone comes to get you. Promise me!"

"I promise!"

Her father kissed her forehead and shoved her staff into her hand. "I love you, butterfly! Now _fly_!"

Amalia ran, as fast as she'd ever run in her life. Glancing over her shoulder through the gaps between houses, she could see armed men breaking into houses and chivvying the inhabitants of Honnleath out into the street.

"Amalia!" came a soft voice from behind a nearby hedgerow. She halted her headlong flight. The Murray children, little Ric and Charity, seven and nine years old respectively, poked their heads up.

"What's happening?" Charity asked, her eyes wide and cheeks red with cold. "We were playing hide-and-seek but then we saw the men and got scared. They're not the arl's soldiers, are they?"

"No, they're bad men. You can't go back into town. Father said to go to Mistress Rose and Leto-they'll take care of us."

"But what about Mama and Papa?" Ric wailed.

"Hush, Ric!" Amalia hissed, but it was too late. One of the soldiers had seen them and was plunging between the houses to pursue them. He seemed an ordinary enough looking fellow though a bit rough-looking, neither ugly nor handsome, in a rusty brigandine. But there was a sinister glitter in his eyes as he looked at Amalia and his sword was out.

"Hey there, Honey-hair!" he leered. "Where do you think _you're_ going? Back to the square with everyone else. I'm sure the captain will be _glad_ to see _you_!"

Fear and repugnance flooded Amalia. Her gorge and her staff rose at the same moment and almost without thought the power raised, was focused and slammed outward.

The soldier was at short range and froze, encased in a solid block of ice. Amalia's follow-through was pure reflex, ingrained over months of training. Stone-fist lashed out next and the soldier _shattered_.

Rose had described the effect and they'd even joked about it. But no dry description could have prepared Amalia for the reality of seeing frozen _pieces_ of a human scattered before her on the brown grass, the realization that there was a _bone_ sticking out of that piece and Maker! Was that a _stomach_? And the _head_ was over there, all by itself…When things thawed out there was going to be a _mess_…She promptly emptied her own stomach over the remains.

"Euuuw, Amalia!" Ric moaned in disgust. "You threw up!"

"Yes, I did," she said, wiping her mouth with a shaky hand.

"Amalia," Charity said, her voice awe-struck. "You just _killed_ that man!"

Amalia nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes. I did."

* * *

The children came out to her and took her hands and they all began to run. Amalia was shaking and her knees were trembling, but she managed to stagger along.

The farmhouse came in sight. Amalia burst through the door, children in tow. Rose came out of the bedroom, Bethany in her arms. She frowned when she saw Amalia's shaken expression.

"What is going on, Amalia? Briar came back a little while ago, growling and with hackles raised. Leto was about to go out and see what had happened." Leto came out of the bedroom behind her. The children gasped and Amalia's jaw dropped.

He was in _armor_, black, spiky armor and there was a sword slung over his back that was almost as tall as he was. He should have looked absurd, but he didn't-he looked _dangerous_.

_He was a bodyguard in Tevinter, _Rose had said. He certainly looked the part.

"Amalia?" Rose prodded gently, her face kind.

"There are men in the village. Soldiers. But they're not Seekers or Templars or the arl's men. They're rough-looking sorts."

"Mercenaries, perhaps," Leto mused. "Looking for a place to hole up for the winter, most like." The advantage to being far off the beaten path was that Honnleath was difficult to find. The disadvantage was that it was also out of sight, out of mind to the nearest authority, which was Arl Teagan at Redcliffe. Which made it a highly desirable hide-out.

"They're breaking into houses and making everyone come outside. Father told me to come and stay with you. To go to the mill and stay there until things blew over. He said that they probably just wanted our food."

"And if they take it, then what are _we_ supposed to eat all winter?" Rose asked. "How many of them are there?"

"I don't know. I didn't get a chance to count, Father pushed me out the door so fast."

"Amalia _killed_ one of them!" little Ric declared with bloodthirsty relish. "She _froze _him and threw magic rocks at him and he _broke_ into tiny little pieces! Then she threw up all over him," he added with less enthusiasm.

"Really, Amalia?" came the soft question.

"Yes, Rose. I'm sorry! It just happened by reflex. He was…leering at me, said his captain would be glad to see me and I figured I knew what he meant…it just sort of happened!"

"I suspect you were exactly right about his intentions," came Rose's calm response. "Leto?"

Her husband went to the parlor sideboard. Leto liked good wine, Amalia knew that much from the disparaging comments he'd made about what was available in Ferelden. But what he poured into a glass was brandy. He brought it to her and she took the glass carefully from his spiky, gauntleted hand. When he saw how her hand was shaking, he stripped the gauntlet and shoved it into his belt, then braced her hand with his to help her drink.

His fingers were oddly warm. Was it her imagination, or were his tattoos _glowing_?

"The first one is the most difficult," came that beautiful voice. "You are a warrior now."

Rose looked at her husband as Amalia drank. "Change of plans, love." Their eyes met and held for a moment. Leto sighed.

"Are you sure?"

Rose nodded. Amalia finished the brandy and set her glass down on the sideboard. The warmth burning in her stomach was helping with the shaking. Rose smiled at her.

"Here Amalia, sit down by the fire and take Bethany," she said, indicating the rocking chair by the fire. "I'll be back in a little bit."

Amalia did as she was bidden, accepting Bethany's sleepy, warm weight in her lap. The child seemed very content. Rose had probably just fed her.

Rose vanished into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Leto took up a station by one of the windows, looking out. He looked deceptively relaxed and watchful, but Amalia got the idea that he could move very swiftly, should trouble begin.

Ric and Charity moved closer to the fire, taking their mittens and coats off and draping them over a nearby chair. They watched Leto with wide eyes. Briar came over by the fire and flopped down near to them, shoving her head under Charity's hand in an appeal for petting. Soon both children were stroking the mabari.

From the sound of things, Rose was doing quite a bit of rummaging though a wardrobe or chest. Then that noise stopped, and a muffled curse sounded through the door.

"Is something wrong, love?" Leto called.

"I'm _bigger _up top!" came the exasperated answer.

Leto's eyes never left the window, but Amalia saw his lips curl up into small smile.

"I _had_ noticed."

* * *

The door opened. Rose Thornwell, new mother, had gone into that room. What came out was…Amalia couldn't decide.

If Rose was wearing mage robes, they weren't like any mage robes she had ever seen before. They looked more like armor. In fact parts of them were armor, and parts were fur. Like Leto's armor, they looked cruel and spikey, and her pleasant face, hooded now, seemed out of place above them.

Ric and Charity gasped and scooted back a bit. Rose gave them a reassuring smile.

"It's all right, children. I need to wear this to go take care of the bad men." She crossed the parlor and opened the other bedroom. "Ric, Charity, come in here. Briar, you too."

The mabari got up and led the children into the bedroom. Rose gestured under the bed.

"Charity, I want you and Ric to hide under here and keep Bethany with you, all right? Do you think you can do that? Briar is going to hide with you too and protect you."

Charity nodded. "Yes, Mistress Rose." Rose addressed the mabari.

"Briar, guard the children." Briar barked an affirmative.

Handing Charity a small brass key, she said, "This is the key to the bedroom. I've got one too. I want you to stay under this bed and I'm going to lock you in. Don't make a sound and don't unlock the door until someone you know is on the other side. Do you understand?" Charity nodded. "Very well then, I know that the two of you are very good at hide-and-seek. This is sort of the same thing." The children began to slide under the bed. "Amalia, give Bethany to me and go get the sugar-tit out of the kitchen. Charity, if Bethany starts to cry, give her the sugar-tit to keep her quiet."

"Yes, Mistress Rose." Amalia handed Rose her daughter and went to do as she'd been told. When she returned, Rose had taken Bethany to Leto. The two of them kissed their daughter on her brow and Rose handed the baby back to Amalia, as well as the key.

"Put her under the bed, please, Amalia and lock the children in." Amalia did so. Briar curled her body around the baby and grinned at Amalia.

"Do you want to stay here, Amalia, or do you want to come with us?" Rose asked when she was done. "There is no guarantee of safety either way. Your best chance might be to take the children and go to the mill as your father said. But I won't send them without you. It's too cold."

"You lied to Father, didn't you? You _are_ a battlemage."

"Yes, I did and yes, I am."

"Are you any good?" Leto snorted a soft laugh.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" came Rose's mild response. "That's good enough."

"I want to go with you."

"I thought that you might. Very well then, but stay back a little." Rose went back into the bedroom and came out with a thick, quilted knee-length robe of grey sashed in red. She threw it to Amalia. "Here, put this on. It will give you some protection." She also had a staff that wasn't her usual staff in her hand. It was the most sinister thing Amalia had ever seen, a plain ebon sweep of wood or perhaps metal, capped with three snarling dragon heads.

Amalia struggled into the robe. Rose stepped up to her husband's side. They matched, looked right together as if they'd done this sort of thing countless times before. She looked back at Amalia and her face was changed to that of a stranger; colder and focused with a raptor intensity. Suddenly the robes suited her.

"Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

They made their way cautiously back towards Honnleath, but there was no one in the square. Pausing in the shadow of Moira Tirsden's house, they listened for a moment. The afternoon was wearing on, noise muffled by the softly falling snow. But protests and screams could still be plainly heard, coming from the direction of the blighted field. Leto and Rose broke into a trot, no longer bothering to conceal themselves. Amalia followed behind.

Under a grey and lowering sky, there on the edge of the blighted field were the mercenaries and the people of Honnleath. The citizens of Honnleath numbered fifty souls. There looked to be almost that many mercenaries. They were separating the villagers into two groups at sword point, the women and children in one, the men in the other.

"_Venhedis_!" Leto exclaimed. It sounded like a swear word. "They're going to kill all the men!"

"Fuck! No time!" said the erstwhile amiable Mistress Rose.

They had been spotted. Amalia could see a group of archers, who'd been aiming at the villagers, shifting their focus to the little group of three. Amalia knew that she wasn't close enough to throw a spell that would reach them, and took a breath and held it in anticipation of being skewered.

Leto was suddenly charging towards the mass of men with a blinding turn of speed, and he was _glowing blue _all over. Rose ran forward three steps, stopped and lifted her staff and her other fist high. The range was too far for Amalia, but apparently not for her. She brought them down and it was as if a mighty hand from the sky had smashed down upon the archers. They were flattened against the ground and only a couple tried to regain their feet.

Rose switched stance, waggling the black staff in a circular motion. Blue light grew beneath the mercenaries on the left side of the villagers. She then changed focus to the right side and did some other sort of glowing blue light spell on the others.

Amalia was confused about exactly what the spells had done, until she noticed that the mercenaries on the left were unable to lift their feet at all, and the ones on the right were moving as if in slow motion.

Meanwhile, Rose was still busy, advancing even closer. She raised the staff on high and fire roared into being around her. She sent it forth with a gesture and Amalia saw for the first time what a Firestorm looked like, the great balls of flame falling from the sky and striking the mercenaries, while leaving the villagers untouched. Then _lightning_ came tamely to Rose's hand and those mercenaries who weren't covered by the Firestorm were treated to a Tempest, jerking and crying out as lightning shocked them to death. The villagers broke free and began to scatter, gathering up children and running as fast as they could.

Men were dying, dropping in their tracks like slaughtered cattle. The blue force spells gave out and some of the mercenaries who were still standing charged towards their tormenters. They never reached them. Rose did the spell that had brought the wooden balls together. It worked on men as well, knocking them off of their feet, whereupon she slammed them again with that horrible smashing hand, Fireballed and Petrified and froze them. Leto had moved between them and Rose as well. He killed three men with one sweep of his huge sword, his lithe body making an incredible leap up into the air. They were literally cut in half. A man better armored than the rest who must have been the captain closed with him. The captain was also a two-handed fighter, and the two of them began exchanging blows.

A couple of the mercenaries broke back towards the road. Amalia ran after them, firing staff blasts. She managed to freeze the farthest one before he got out of her range and shot the other one dead with repeated blasts. Then she dealt with the frozen one, just as he was thawing out.

And Rose was not yet done. She was cycling back through her spells, crushing and burning and shocking the mercenaries, keeping them pinned and contained with her Force spells. Amalia finally understood the logic behind Rose's training as she watched the battlemage move effortlessly from one spell to another, punctuating major spells with precise staff blasts, taking her enemies in turn in the most efficient way, analyzing threats and removing them in order of their level of danger. Wilhelm's granddaughter added her own staff blasts and freezing and fire spells to the mix, mostly on the outside edges of things, dealing with those that tried to escape.

It hadn't taken more than a couple of minutes for fifty men to meet their deaths. The last was the captain, who folded over Leto's arm, which had glowed blue and thrust itself _through_ his chest. Amalia finally understood why the Chantry hated and feared mages so much. Those _fifty_ men had never had a chance against _two_ mages and an extraordinary warrior. There were few mages as powerful as Rose, but those mighty ones had brought doom on all of the mage-born, even the minor talents that populated Honnleath.

One by one, Rose's area spells faded away, the Tempest last to go with a final snarling sound. The afternoon grew quiet again. Leto shook the captain's body off of his arm with a horrible nonchalance, flicking it again to remove some of the blood and gore. Then he began stalking through the piles of bodies like some sort of deadly black crane, peering down at them. Amalia saw the great sword arch arch up once, and come down, skewering one of the mercenaries. But only once. Rose had apparently done her work well.

Some of the villagers had fled entirely, but most were at the edge of town, watching, Matthias at their head. Rose planted her staff and leaned heavily upon it. Leto was there in an instant.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

She shook her head. "A bit done in, is all. I haven't done that much magic all at once in a long time. How about you?"

"I am unharmed." He looked at the pile of dead bodies. "They should have brought more men," came his dry comment. Rose laughed, apparently unmoved by the carnage she'd created.

"I'm rather glad they didn't!" Seeing Amalia watching, she smiled wryly. "See what I mean, Amalia? It _is_ like muscles." Amalia nodded and Rose gave her a concerned look, the cold, intense stranger gone. "Are you all right, dear?"

"I…I think so. What were they going to do?"

Her father was walking towards them now, most of the Council trailing behind him and the rest of the village behind them. "Cull the villagers, at a guess," said Leto. "They wanted to make sure there was enough food for _them_ to eat through the winter. Kill the able-bodied men, the potential trouble-makers, and keep the women and children around as servants and…amusements."

"I think Leto is right," Matthias said as he walked up. He held out his arms and Amalia ran into his embrace. "I was a fool to try to talk to them. But Travis and Rousell tried to fight and they were killed. I hoped to defuse the situation."

"In a lot of circumstances that would have worked, Matthias," Rose said mildly. "And except for Amalia, none of you are offensive mages of any power. I'd like to know where these bastards came from though, in case there are more of them."

Farrin Marsh joined them. "I'm wondering," he said. "Last time I was in Serrenfield, there was talk of some mix-up to the north in the Bannorns. A couple of banns hammering each other with mercenaries. The King's army went in and sorted it out. These fellows might have escaped from that. I never thought to mention it because it was so far away. I didn't think it signified anything to us."

"Then there could possibly be more," Matthias said, his brow creased. "We should keep a watch. And someone needs to go to Arl Teagan, tell him what transpired here."

Patience Murray spoke then, her voice urgent. "And we have to find Ric and Charity! They've not been seen!"

"Your children are at my house, Patience, under the bed in the guest bedroom." Rose fished in the pouch at her belt and brought the other key out, holding it between gauntleted fingers. Patience approached and took it carefully, looking wide-eyed at Rose's accoutrements. "Bethany and Briar are with them. I'd appreciate it if you'd stay there until I can get back."

Relief flooded Mistress Murray's face. "Of course, Rose! Thank you for looking after them!"

"Ricard, Berk, go with her," Rose said, in a commanding voice it would have been unthinkable to question. "Just in case there are some more stragglers out there. In fact," and she raised her voice to carry to the onlookers. "Nobody should go out alone for the next little bit. Twos at least. Threes is better." Murmurs of agreement came from the crowd. "Does anyone here need healing?"

"I'm on that, Rose," the midwife called. "You've more than done your share. Get back to that baby of yours."

Mistress Rose rolled her shoulders and winced. "I think I will. This thing is getting _tight_. I need my little suckling pig."

"On behalf of the Council and all of Honnleath, we thank you and Leto, Rose," Matthias declared. "We owe you our lives. And Amalia too, of course," he added, his eyes both proud and worried as he looked down at his daughter.

Rose just nodded and turned, headed for home in the Murrays' wake, Leto striding along at her side. From behind them, a cheer arose from the people whom they'd saved.

"Rose lied to us, Father," Amalia said as she watched them go from the shelter of his arm. "She said she wasn't a battlemage. But somehow I can't be sorry that she did."

"I know, butterfly. What was it she said? 'a little bit of Primal, a little bit of Elemental, a little bit of Force'?" He looked at the pile of dead men. "Some 'little bit'! But I think I know why she did it. I suspect that's not the only thing Rose Thornwell has not been truthful about. Including what _Leto _Thornwell actually _is_. I've never seen the like of what he did out there."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"The Council will meet, and decide. Though for my part, the Thornwells have a home here so long as they wish to stay. But it's not entirely my decision. And we have other matters to deal with first."

* * *

Coris Blaylock and Farrin Marsh set off for Redcliffe to talk to the arl. The remainder of the villagers, Leto included, gathered up the bodies and carried them off to a barren ravine, after looting them of any useable metal or items. When they'd all been laid out, words were said over them by Matthias. Then Rose, dressed as a villager once more, Firestormed them repeatedly until they were little more than brittle bone flakes and ash. A combination of her Force spells and human and horse muscle levered rock and earth down over the remains until they were decently buried. By Mid-summer, it would be difficult to discern that anything had been buried there at all.

Aside from the two fatalities and the odd bruise, wrenched limb or slash, Honnleath's inhabitants had suffered little harm from their run-in with the mercenary band and the mercenaries had been too busy rounding people up to indulge in looting or rapine. Travis and Eiric Rousell were burned with all due ceremony, the pyre aided by both Rose and Amalia. A post-ceremony wake brought a great deal of closure to the community. When it was done, the village seemed to have returned to its usual placid, peaceful self.

Except that the villagers no longer regarded Rose and Leto in the quite same way. They were treated with an odd mixture of deference and wariness. The Thornwells were very aware of this and seemed to be unmoved by it. They went about their usual business in the village as if nothing had happened.

One night, at the village sewing circle, Deanna Shadwell broke down and asked the question that most of them had been dying to ask Rose.

"Rose, does it bother you, that you killed those men?"

Dead silence fell. Rose, who was currently nursing Bethany with a shawl thrown over her shoulder, looked up.

"Bother me that I killed a bunch of murdering louts who were about to slay all the men in the village, then spend the winter raping you all and your children?" she said mildly. "Not in the least."

"How many have you…" Patience Murray trailed off.

"How many people have I killed?" Rose filled in. "I don't keep count." She looked to be engaging in some mental calculations for a moment. "The death toll is in the thousands by this time, I would guess. Though there were some monsters and undead mixed in there as well." The women of the circle exchanged wide-eyed glances.

"You were a mercenary too, weren't you?" Amalia asked, feeling a bit disloyal as she did so.

But Rose did not take offense. "I was. But even mercenaries have choices about which contracts they take. I always tried to take the ones that helped people. Even though sometimes those people had next to nothing."

That didn't sound so bad. Goody Aoife changed the subject to the superiority of her gooseberry preserves over all others and the resulting argument all but banished the conversation from the goodwives' minds. For a time.

* * *

Amalia continued to come to Rose for lessons, which became even more taxing and demanding in their scope. She did not question the reasoning for that-the village was keeping a watch, lest more mercenaries come their way.

Rose herself was pushing _her _magical muscles. She would go out to the blighted field every couple of days and do the Firestorms and Tempests, the Force spells, all the big battle spells. She was careful to spread them over the entirety of the field and not do two in succession in the same place. "You can fuse soil to glass if you do enough Firestorming," she said when Amalia questioned her about it.

"Will I ever be able to do a Firestorm?"

"I think that you will, when you're a bit stronger. You can do Fireball, and that's the next step up to it. You're stronger than you know, Amalia." Rose's brow creased as she tried to explain. "It's a bit different, with the big spells. You almost have to _yield _in a way, when you're summoning, to bend beneath them. But not too much, or you'll crisp or shock yourself. You sort of _lure_ the power in. Then, once you've coaxed it to you, you can seize it and send it out. It's hard to describe."

"Did your father teach you how to do it?" Rose had mentioned her father's training methods more than once, usually when Amalia complained. He'd apparently been a worse taskmaster than Rose, difficult as that was to imagine.

"Maker, no! I wasn't as far along as you are when he died. I picked the rest of it up on my own, using his old grimoire. My first Firestorm was an act of desperation, in the heat of battle. Giant spiders. I have a…thing about spiders and there were a _lot_ of them." She grinned. "I don't recommend that way of going about it at all. It took _weeks_ for my hair to grow back."

* * *

It took two weeks for Blaylock and Marsh to return from Redcliffe. After they'd had a good meal and a bath, a Council meeting was called in the old windmill. When everyone was gathered about the library table and a couple of side tables, mugs of good Honnleath beer in their hands (save for Rose, who had cider), the two men gave their news.

"Arl Teagan thanks us for taking care of those men," Farrin Marsh said. "They _were_ survivors of that bannorn business, and he'd been chasing them all over the arldom. In fact, there was a bounty on 'em and he's sent that with us." Blaylock produced a sizeable bag of coin. Murmurs of approval came from the Council members.

"We were thinking we might put it towards one of those newfangled reapers and another team for the town," the smith said, "But of course, that's up to the Council."

"We'll discuss that in the budget meeting," Matthias said with a nod. "Did the arl say if we could expect any more trouble?"

"He doesn't think so," Marsh responded. "As far as anyone knows, that lot was the only bunch as got away-the King's men were thorough. They'd come so far south out of desperation. But we might want to keep a watch up for a while just in case."

Matthias nodded. "Is there any other news?" Marsh looked at Blaylock for a long moment, then produced a printed broadside.

"There's this. Coris picked it up at the Chantry. There was one on the Chanter's board, and when he said that his village Chantry didn't have one yet, they gave him another. Said they're spreading them to every Chanter's board in Ferelden."

**A REWARD of**

**TWO HUNDRED SOVEREIGNS**

**Offered for information leading to the apprehension of the**

**Apostate known as ANDERS, guilty of the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry and the murder of the Blessed Elthina, Grand Cleric of same, as well as the murders of numerous other worshippers and clergy.**

**ANDERS is a man in his thirties, tall and thin, with fair hair and brown eyes.**

**Also, a REWARD of**

**ONE HUNDRED SOVEREIGNS**

**is offered for information about the location of the apostate HOLLY HAWKE, sometime known as the CHAMPION OF KIRKWALL.**

**HAWKE is a woman in her mid-thirties, of middle height and build, with fair hair and blue eyes. She may be in the company of one or more of the following:**

**ANDERS**

**ISABELA, a privateer from Rivain. A woman of middling to heavy build, dark-skinned, with black hair and brown eyes.**

**MERRILL, A Dalish. A small elf, pale-skinned, with black hair and green eyes, with Dalish tattoos upon her face.**

**FENRIS, A Tevinter elf. Tall for an elf, with dark skin, white hair and green eyes. Fenris is tattooed over much of his body.**

**If you should have any information about any of these persons, please report it to the nearest Chantry or Templar barracks. The Maker and His Bride Andraste bless us all.**

The broadside was passed around the table. As each Council member read it, their eyes turned to Leto and then Rose.

"Rose," Amalia heard herself saying softly, "_You're_ the Champion, aren't you?"

Leto had shoved his chair back to get room to move, but Rose seemed unperturbed. She had been nursing Bethany and moved the baby up to her shoulder to burp her. When she was done, she answered Amalia.

"I have that dubious distinction, yes."

Hubbub broke out. The _Champion_! _Here_! Matthias permitted it to go on for a few moments, then raised his hand for silence.

"One of the things that we wished to cover at this meeting was the fact that you misrepresented yourself when you first came to Honnleath, Rose," Matthias said. "We are well aware of what you have done for us, but wanted to know what the truth of the matter was."

"I've been expecting as much since the battle, Matthias." She smiled, a wry, self-deprecating thing. "And I will point out that a hundred sovereigns would go far towards getting more horse-drawn equipment for the town. Or towards putting up that communal storage barn everyone was wanting."

"You think we're so lost to gratitude as all that, Rose?" snapped Marsh. "I voted to let you stay in the town when I thought you were a whore. Now you've saved us all! Why would we turn you in?"

The Champion's eyes lit with amusement. "_You _voted _for_ me, Farrin? I would never have guessed!"

Marsh's seamed face reddened. "Figured I'd better," he muttered. "Everyone else was so keen on having you."

"But not so keen now, I take it," the woman who was actually Holly Hawke said. "I can't blame you all one bit. Fenris and I will leave if you like-the road is nothing new to us. There are no hard feelings in the least. No sane person wants the sort of trouble we can bring down on them. Amalia, I'll give you the farm. It will be a very nice dowry."

"_No_, Rose! I don't want you to leave!"

"The mercenaries were the first trouble we've had since the darkspawn," Matthias noted. "We really are off the beaten track here. It was just a really bad bit of luck that they came here. It would have been much worse luck had you and Leto not been here. And there are those of us who would have our own difficulties with Seekers or Templars, should they come here. Honnleath is _supposed_ to be a refuge."

"Really, Rose," Moira Tirsden sniffed. "I could be offended! Just when we were going to get to work on your healing spells!"

"You've been a good neighbor, Rose," Patience Murray said, "And you kept my children safe. You don't need to go."

"Leto's been a big help to me," the smith said. "Don't know who I'd get to help if you all left."

Everyone started talking at once then, and had to be gaveled back to order by Mathias.

"Before we make any final decisions, I'd like for Rose-or Holly-"

"-Rose will do," the Champion put in.

"-I'd like for Rose to tell us just how she found us in the first place. You said the Hero told you? Is that true?"

Rose nodded. "It is. I'd been on the run for a couple of years since the fall of the Chantry in Kirkwall."

"I noticed that the broadsheet didn't say anything about apprehending or arresting _you_," Ricard Murray said.

"I'm not responsible for blowing up the Chantry. But I suspect that they want to talk to me about Anders, and I don't know where he is now. I'm also not particularly interested in being put to the question, Tranquiled, or shoved into a Circle, any or all of which could happen if they got their hands on me." Sympathetic murmurs of agreement at that.

"We _were_ married in Llommerryn," Leto put in in his deep voice. "We've got the marriage certificate to prove it. There is a …friend of Hawke's who is good with creating identities. We were there for about six months when we got word the Chantry had picked up our trail. Rose had just discovered she was pregnant. So we found Isabela, took ship with her and headed for Ferelden. Hawke…Rose…wanted to go home to have the baby."

Rose took up the tale. "We ran into a terrible storm and the ship grounded on the Amaranthine coast. As chance would have it, we were greeted by the Warden-Commander himself. He took us to Vigil's Keep in secret and let us recover there. He also helped Isabela repair her ship. When we got to talking about where I could spend the rest of my pregnancy that would be safe, Cyrill suggested Honnleath. But he told me that I needed to pretend to be a minor power, that you folks were frightened of powerful mages. That was agreeable enough to me-I couldn't work magic then in any event and I was done with fighting. So he gave us a map to this place, and we bought a wagon and team and drove down here. Isabela and the others sailed off their own way. I don't know where they are or what has become of them at this point." Her face became pensive as she contemplated her friends.

"I can't fault the Hero," Matthias said with a shake of his head. "It turned out to be a very good thing you were here."

"If it makes you all feel any better," Rose said, "Arl Teagan knows that I am here. And King Alistair does as well."

"You've met the _King_?"

"Oh yes. He summoned me to him when he was visiting in Kirkwall-I met Teagan there for the first time as well, though he wasn't the arl then. And Cyrill sent for the King when I arrived at Vigil's Keep. They're both willing to hide me from the Chantry."

"The arl seemed very unsurprised about what had happened to the mercenaries," Blaylock said. "I wondered about it at the time."

'The King even offered me a place at court, in the open, because he's just about had it with the Chantry, but…" Rose sighed. "I'm done with conflict, much less being the cause of it. I just want to grow a nice garden, figure out how to make gooseberry preserves better than Aoife's," a laugh ran around the room as Aoife protested, "and be able to go out on a summer's day and take my daughter fishing down below the mill."

"_No_t that fish thing of yours again…" Leto muttered. Rose's hand that wasn't holding the baby covered his, and he bent his head in her direction.

"But as I said, I'll understand if you all don't want any part of us," Rose continued. "My father raised us on the run. We never stayed in any place for long until we reached Lothering. It's not entirely a bad life. I have good memories of my childhood, and I can see to it that Bethany does too."

"How is it that Leto does what he does?" Matthias asked. "I've never seen anything like that."

"I was a slave to a Tevinter magister," came the deep voice. "He tattooed me with lyrium to give me these abilities, to make me the most dangerous bodyguard in Minrathrous. When I escaped, he sent slave hunters after me for years, trying at least to get the lyrium back from my cold corpse if he couldn't apprehend me alive. I was on the run continuously. I couldn't stop in any one place too long-until I went to Kirkwall and met Hawke. She helped me fight the slavers off, then his best apprentice Hadriana and finally Danarius himself, when he came after me."

"You killed a _Tevinter magister, _Rose?" Matthias exclaimed. Shocked mutters ran around the room.

Rose shrugged. "Hardly the worst fight I've ever had. He was overly arrogant."

"And the Arishok?" Amalia couldn't help but ask.

"That was…not exactly as heroic as they paint it." Rose actually blushed. "I ran like crazy to keep out of his reach, laid Force spells on him and froze and petrified him to keep him off of me and made him chase me through a lot of the big stuff. It took a while, but I wore him down eventually. Briar helped." The mabari, who was off to the side of the room out from under foot, whuffed in a pleased tone. Scattered chuckles sounded.

"I think we know enough to go on with," Matthias said firmly, quelling any further requests for Champion stories. It's time to vote. Rose, Leto, if you'd like to go upstairs…"

"I've got no trouble with them knowing how I'm voting," Farrin Marsh grumbled. Other villages chimed in as well.

"Bethany is asleep," said Rose, her hand stroking the baby on her shoulder. "I'd hate to wake her. And we don't mind knowing how people voted either. As I said, no hard feelings. I _did_ lie to everyone, and I _am_ a bit of a storm crow."

"Just a _bit_ of one," Leto agreed. The Thornwells exchanged one of _those_ looks.

"Very well then," Matthias conceded. He rapped the gavel once on the table. "Because they substantially misrepresented themselves as to their true identities and abilities when the first vote was taken, the motion before the Honnleath Village Council is whether we should allow Leto and Rose Thornwell, who are actually Fenris and Holly Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, to remain in our midst as members of our village. All in favor, raise your hands."

A forest of hands rose towards the ceiling.

"All opposed?"

Not a single hand was raised.

The gavel rapped once more. Amalia's father was grinning. "The ayes have it. Thornwells or Hawkes, you are welcome here in Honnleath for as long as you care to stay."

Amalia would have thought that self-possessed Rose Thornwell, that the Champion Holly Hawke, slayer of hosts, would get up at that point and give a gracious, stirring speech, as befitted a hero. The very _last_ thing she would have expected was that Mistress Rose would break down and burst into tears.

Leto's arm slid around his wife and child, and his head bent over them for a moment. Then he looked up at the villagers.

"No more running, then," he said. "Here we stand."


	5. Chapter 5

Epilogue

The winter was a long and snowy one. Satinalia was a happy holiday, the modest festivities the village got up to greatly enjoyed by all. The village was astonished to find out that Leto could actually play the lute, which he obligingly did at the Satinalia dance. Rose and Amalia spent a certain amount of time using Burning Hands to clear paths and walkways, and Rose finally took up her study of healing with Moira Tirsden, as did Amalia. It was fun for Matthias' daughter, so long Rose's pupil, to be a pupil _with_ Rose, who despite her overall competency had a lot to learn about this new branch of magic.

By unspoken agreement, the village continued to refer to the Champion and her husband as Rose and Leto Thornwell. It seemed safest if the Hawke name was allowed to sink into obscurity. And Rose pointed out that Leto was actually Fenris' _real_ name and the one he preferred, as Fenris was a name given him by his late, hated master.

Nothing much ever happened in Honnleath. Amalia would have thought that people used to as much excitement as the Champion and her husband would eventually grow bored and restless. But it did not happen. Rose and Leto Thornwell took each day as it came, enjoying the small pleasures and milestones, such as Bethany's first tooth. The two of them twined theirselves even more tightly into the heart of the village. Leto formally took up learning smithing from Coris Blaylock, for which it turned out that he had a decided talent and Patience Murray finally succeeded where Leandra Hawke had not, and taught Leandra's daughter to sew a straight seam.

Rose's plans for her garden the upcoming year were extremely ambitious, and she was looking through some of Wilhelm's old books for information on permanent enchantments. She had an idea that if she could enchant stones to give out a permanent level of heat and light, then she could make some sort of hothouse for plants. Wilhelm himself had done a little bit of that in the windmill for his magical plants, and Rose wanted his plans. She was speaking of raising fresh vegetables in basements in the depths of winter…Such things could not be sold in Serrenfield-the town was too small to have the market for them, and to take them farther afield would require magical preservation that might arouse questions the villagers didn't want asked. But Honnleath would certainly enjoy them!

Amalia herself was feeling restless, and as spring slowly began to manifest, found herself out walking the boundaries of the village more and more. One morning, as she walked the road going out of town by the blighted field, she saw something that caused her to stop in her tracks. A small spot of _green_, well in from the field's un-Blighted boundary. Turning to look across the field, she saw the faintest verdant mist. It wasn't entirely even, but there were patches of it all across the field.

Turning, she ran back to town to find her father. He was at the smith, helping Blaylock and Leto put a new wheel on the town wagon.

"Father, come with me! There's something you need to see!"

The wheel slid onto the axle and Matthias straightened. "What is it, butterfly?"

"It's a surprise! Come see! You too, Leto, Coris!"

"I'm good," Coris Blaylock said. "I'll just pin the wheel and you can tell me later. Go on if you like, Leto."

Leto dusted his hands and joined them. He'd gone barefoot or the next best thing most of the last year, but Coris had insisted that he wear thick boots in the smithy and he'd finally become accustomed to them.

Coming out of the smithy, they ran into Rose, Bethany bundled in a sling and a basket full of baked goods on her arm. Even Moira Tirsden was hard-pressed to match Rose's ability at distilling potions, but as a baker she was hopeless. She'd finally settled on just paying Deanna Shadwell to do the baking for the Thornwell family.

"Oh, Rose! Good! Come with us, you need to see this!"

Leto took the basket from his wife. "Amalia is all excited about something. I have no idea what it is."

"Well by all means, let's go see," Rose said amiably, and they followed Amalia out to the blighted field.

"Well I'll be!" Matthias exclaimed, when he saw the new growth. They walked out into the field, examining the crop of tiny baby weeds. "The question is-is it growing because the Blight is just wearing off, or because of all the magic you and Amalia have been doing out here, Rose."

"I'm thinking the magic," Rose said. "It can't be coincidence."

"It remains to be seen if it will _keep_ growing," Leto said. "I've heard that sometimes things start to grow in Blighted land, and then wilt."

"Thank you, wet blanket!" his wife said. He cocked an eyebrow at her and Rose responded with a fond smile. "Just enjoy the moment, Leto!"

"Nothing has so much as offered to sprout before," Matthias said. "I think we'll just let this lie fallow and see what happens this year. I'm not sure I'm ready to eat anything from this field for a while."

"The good news is that we might be able to put this field back into production eventually," Leto intoned. "But in my capacity as official village wet blanket, I must point out that there is a down side to this." Matthias, Amalia and Rose all looked at him. He grinned that rare, transformative grin of his.

"As soon as Farrin Marsh sees this, he'll want the girls over at that patch of Blighted land on _his_ farm, doing their magical practice there. And that's quite a hike!"

Bethany gurgled and laughter rose into the cool spring air.


End file.
